Last Wish
by Profe
Summary: Stan Marsh has fallen out of contact with his once close friends and it isn't until he receives some grim news that he realizes he needs to get his act together. With the help of a strange virus, he's transported to a place unlike his own to fight for the friendship he drifted away from and the person he doesn't want to lose. Unfortunately, it just may cost his life.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N -** After quite possibly the longest hiatus of my life, here I am again with another fanfiction. It was one I actually uploaded wayyy back when, but deleted because I had no drive to finish it, so my apologies if some of you remember this :') At least you'll get to see how it ends now! If you like what I write about, hop over to my tumblr to see my fanart! **ALSO** I realize how horrendously short my chapters are, and I've been told to lengthen them, so as we go on they will get longer, I promise C:

 **South Park (C) Matt n Trey**

* * *

 **Part 1.**

 _What would you do if somebody told you that you were going to die?_

It was a Tuesday when Stan Marsh got the phone call from Kenny asking if he was sober enough to retain the information he was about to relay. He just mumbled back an incoherent reply, but Kenny went on despite that. "Stan, it's Kyle."

"Hm?" Stan grunted in response. The last time he'd spoken to Kyle, Kenny or even Eric for that matter was more than two months ago. He didn't mean for it to happen that way, but Kyle had told him countless times to stop drinking; that it wasn't healthy for him. He just never listened. He was tired and upset and sick of his parents' bullshit. Drinking seemed like the easiest way to escape it all, even if for just a little while. For Kenny to suddenly call him out of the blue was a rare occurrence.

He could hear Kenny sigh on the other end. "Stan, he's in the hospital. The doctors say he's going to die." There was an awkward silence after that, in which Stan's eyes widened in disbelief. Sure, he may not have spoken to the redhead in a while, but he sure as hell didn't want him to die. They _were_ super best friends for a large point in their lives and no matter how much he didn't want to believe it, Kyle was, at present, lying in a hospital bed on the verge of death.

"W-when did this happen?" his voice was shaky. "Why is he..." he couldn't manage to finish his sentence before trailing off, imagining the horrible possibilities.

"It started last week," Kenny's voice was unreasonably calm, but Stan knew from past experiences that Kenny was just very good at covering up his feelings. "He started to get sick again. He told us not to worry, but it only escalated after that. He's been in the hospital for a while... It's his kidney again. It's failing."

"What?" Stan nearly yelled. Why hadn't anyone told him?

As if reading his mind, Kenny said, "He didn't want me to tell you at all, but when I visited him today, he told me that he knows he's going to die." He paused for a moment, taking in a breath, "Now that he knows he's going to die, he wanted me to tell you..."

"You're lying," Stan's breaths were quick. He felt like he was suffocating. Kyle couldn't be dying. He couldn't be sick. This was all just some sick, twisted joke, right? "Kenny, you bastard. Do you think this is funny? How could you tell this sort of sick joke?" he yelled.

This was when Kenny lost it. Normally he was the kind to stay calm through anything, to make everyone else feel better about the situation, but Stan couldn't blame him. He deserved all that Kenny said to him. "Shut the fuck up, Stan! Do you really think _I want_ to tell you this? Do you think that I _want_ to be the bearer of bad news? That Kyle's dying isn't some sick fucking joke. It's reality. Maybe if you had been around more, you would have known. Maybe instead of drowning yourself in alcohol every time you didn't think you could handle some stupid ass problem or yours, you would have realized! He's your best fucking friend, you douche bag. I don't care what you say. Even if you haven't spoken in months, you two are still best friends, so stop wallowing in your own self pity and get your ass down to the hospital to see him again!" Stan was sure he heard Kenny start to cry before he hung up the phone and it made him feel like shit. He knew that his parents fighting and Shelly beating him up was a normal thing and maybe if he'd bothered to talk to his friends about it, they could have helped, but because he turned to alcohol, he couldn't turn away. He hated himself for never trying to fix things, but he'd always just assumed Kyle would run back to him and they would start over like usual. What a pathetic thing to think. It wasn't Kyle's fault that this fight had started. It was his own, and to believe Kyle would come back to apologize first was pathetic.

He threw down the phone in rage, running to his desk and throwing off any papers and folders he could get his hands on. He let out an aggravated scream. "Fuck! This isn't happening!" he screamed to himself until his screams turned into nothing more than sobs and he was curled up on the floor crying. He didn't know if it was partly the alcohol, but that was the worst he had ever felt in all his years of living.

"Stan?" his mother knocked on the door. She'd learned to leave him alone when he had these outbursts. "Stan, honey, what's wrong?"

"Go away," he snapped. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now!"

She sighed, "You can't just lie on the floor. It won't make your problems go away."

"Leave me alone," he muttered. He was in no mood to talk things out now. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up to a world where everything went back to the way it used to be. He wished he'd never become such a cynical bastard or touched that first bottle of alcohol.

After his mother left, he pulled himself into a ball on the floor and shut his eyes tight. He didn't want to face this world right now. He didn't want to believe that Kyle was dying. He didn't want to believe that Kenny had just called him out and he definitely didn't want to believe that it was all real. If it was, that meant he would _have_ to face it sooner rather than later because if Kyle died, he wasn't going to come back.

"Fuck," he hissed, rubbing his eyes. "Fuck everything. This whole world sucks!" He wanted to dream of when they were still eight years old, going on crazy adventures and getting mixed up in weird shenanigans. It was all fun, though, when he looked back on it. They may have complained, but out of each strange adventure, they got thousands of laughs and made tons more memories. Memories he wouldn't trade in for anything, no matter what had happened over the course of the year. He wondered if the others felt the same way, or if they were embarrassed to be in the same room as him.

He sighed, remembering one of the last times he'd really seen them. They'd finally graduated grade twelve not too long ago and Bebe was hosting a huge party for their classes. Of course, there had been alcohol and Stan got to drinking. He imagined he must have made such a fool of himself in front of them because even Eric looked disgusted when he'd seen them the next day. He'd wanted to apologize, but he couldn't bring himself to take a step forward. Instead, he'd just watched as Kyle gave him a disappointed look and walked away.

From then on, he decided to stop holding back. If Kyle was so disappointed in him, there was no chance things would go back to the way they used to be, right?

He felt tears well up at his eyes again. He just couldn't believe Kyle was dying. His _best fucking friend_ was dying in some hospital bed and he couldn't even bring himself off his ass to go see him because he was too embarrassed. What the hell kind of friend did that make him? An incredibly shitty one, he'd bet. Even Eric Cartman had probably visited Kyle once or twice. "I'm so pathetic," he wailed. He wanted to see Kyle again, but he didn't want to see him strapped up to machines and high from meds. He was still just a kid! Kids shouldn't be locked up in a hospital room. They should be running around freely without a care in the world.

He didn't admit it often, but he always wanted the best for Kyle. He was so young and had such a bright future that Stan was sure he would go far. But... instead, he was going to die.

He recalled a few Christmases ago, when Kyle had asked Stan to meet him at Harbucks. He walked over in the snow, bundled up tight and curious as to what it was that Kyle wanted. When he arrived, Kyle waved his hand happily and motioned for him to come over to the seats he'd saved. "Stan, I know we don't usually exchange gifts anymore, but I found you something I thought was perfect."

"Hm, what is it?" Stan asked curiously.

"Take a look yourself!"

So he did. "It's pretty big," he chuckled as he unwrapped it.

"Yeah, well," Kyle rubbed his head, "I thought you could use it."

It was a guitar. A beautiful wooden guitar. "Wh-what... Dude, are you serious? Didn't this cost you a load of money?"

"Actually, not too much," Kyle smiled. "In any case, I remember you telling me that you wish you had your own. I thought you could make something beautiful. I'd also like to hear you play sometime! And who knows, you might even like to join Kenny at the coffeehouse."

"Dude... this is seriously awesome of you. Thank you so much," he gently set the gift down on a table and pulled Kyle in for a tight hug. "You rock."

Kyle laughed, "No problem, dude."

Stan had played the guitar tons of times after that and it had been great fun. He and Kenny played nights together at the coffeehouse an he'd even composed his own songs a few times. He remembered how excited Kyle looked whenever he would make a new piece.

He glanced to the corner of his room. Since he'd become an alcoholic, that poor guitar had only been collecting dust and had become nothing more than a part of the room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd played something.

He slowly pulled himself off the floor and dried his tears. He reached out for the guitar, gently picking it up as if it would crumble if he was too rough. He walked back over to his bed and sat down, setting his hands on the strings to get used to the feeling again. It really had been far too long. He hoped he hadn't forgotten, but as soon as he had a song in mind, he began to play like old times. Slowly strumming away, he closed his eyes once more, trying to forget for a moment, how horrible his life turned out to be. How horrible he had made it become.

Moments later, he stopped playing. He glanced at the guitar and images of Kyle flashed through his mind. He missed his friend so fucking much it hurt. It hurt to remember. It hurt to keep playing, so he stood back up and laid the guitar on his bed, turning and running into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red from crying and his face was sickeningly pale. It was summer, but he'd spent most of the time inside, alone.

He looked down and watched as his tears fell into the sink. He turned the tap on, not wanting his family to hear him cry anymore. "Shit, I messed up... I messed up bad," he hugged himself tightly.

"I'm sorry, Kyle. I'm so sorry."


	2. Chapter 2

**Short chapters for a while again, but maybe the next one I upload will be a combo of two just so I can get the old ones uploaded.**

* * *

Part Two

Kyle Broflovski waited patiently in the white hospital room with his hands clasped together, staring at the tray of food in front of him. So much mush. He didn't want to eat it; it was perfectly rotten. Fortunately, it was then that Kenny decided to pay him a visit, smuggling in a sandwich from subway. "You're a lifesaver," Kyle said, taking a bite.

Kenny just snorted, "Wouldn't want you to die from starvation..."

Kyle smiled appreciatively, but this was when Kenny's expression turned a deal more serious. "He still hasn't visited yet?" He was, of course, talking about Stan. He'd called the day prior to tell that idiot that his best friend was sick, but he didn't even seem to care. Kenny was beginning to get royally fed up with his act. He understood Stan was dealing with his parents and Shelly, and at first he was supportive and kind, but Stan had completely shut them all out. He wouldn't speak to them and tell what was on his mind, wouldn't ask them for help. Instead, he just drowned his sorrows in alcohol.

Kyle shook his head. He was looking paler and weaker as the time went on. The doctors had told Kyle's family that the maximum amount of time he had left to live was a week or two if he didn't start dialysis, which he refused to do. Kenny had come back a few times asking him-pleading him to do it, but Kyle wouldn't have it. _'Maybe it's just my time,'_ he'd said. Kenny knew where he stood on dialysis. He felt the burdens outweighed the benefits and he didn't want to live like that. He remembered when he was eight and him, Kenny and Stan were outside making faces at the elderly on dialysis, and he almost thought it was like karma. Since he'd decided to die, Kenny had been smuggling him in foods he'd never usually eat. It wasn't like it mattered anymore anyway.

"He's an asshole," Kenny said. "I'd say forget about him, but you can't really, can you?"

Kyle gave him a sad smile, "No, I really can't. He's my best friend."

"After all this time, you still consider him that?"

"I do." And that was it; Kenny never pressed further. He didn't want to make Kyle feel bad or over think things. He wasn't that kind of person. He just wished Stan would visit, but maybe he was scared. Kenny couldn't blame him for being scared, but he could blame him for being a coward about it. He was supposed to be the brave one, not just Kyle, who was taking death pretty well on the outside. Inside, Kenny could tell he was scared, though. He could always tell.

"I'm tired, Kenny..." Kyle set down the sandwich, suddenly losing his appetite. He looked toward the fan, which was blowing a slight breeze in his direction, taking a deep breath. "I'm so tired."

Kenny frowned, "I know... Should I come back later?"

"It might be best." And so, after giving Kyle a little kiss on the forehead, Kenny left. He didn't particularly want to, but as Kyle said, it would probably be best.

.0.0.0.

Hours later, Kyle was asleep in the bed. His family had come by earlier to try to beg him to go on dialysis, but he was 19 now. He could choose for himself, which was what he was doing. They didn't understand his choice, but that was okay to him. For now he was just going to try his hardest to get them to accept it until his time was up.

His door creaked open, shedding some light into the room. It wasn't quite enough to wake the redhead, but that was something the visitor was happy about. Actually, he had come. Once he'd calmed down the night before, he went down to the hospital and peered through the door. He saw Kenny playing his PSP, chatting to Kyle about something, who was laughing weakly. Stan didn't want to disturb that scene, so he ran away. Sure, he was a coward, he could accept that. He was just a giant coward for not wanting to see his best friend die.

Truthfully, he'd always thought of Kyle as a little more than a best friend, and he knew Kyle felt the same way. He figured they were more like soul mates. Two people destined to be at each other's sides for as long as life would let them be. It didn't even have to be romantic, though Stan had let the thought enter his mind once or twice before... He sighed, taking a seat at the chair beside Kyle's bed. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't want to forget Kyle. He didn't want to forget the things they'd done, the adventures they went on and the sights they'd seen. He wanted to remember it so vivid that it was blinding. He wanted to be able to stare at a picture taken and recall the exact chat they'd had beforehand. He wanted to touch his soft hair and make fun of his strict nature; to watch him and Cartman have the silliest arguments, see that fire in his eyes when he knew he'd won a fight.

Of all the things Stan Marsh loved about Kyle Broflovski, his passion was number one. He was so passionate it was amazing. "I'm so, so sorry," he repeated. "I'd sober up for you... but it's too late for that now, isn't it?" he felt himself tearing up again and absently rubbed at his eyes. "Fuck, I hate myself. I should have been there... I was such a fucking idiot. I still am! I missed you so much, but instead of voicing that, I just drank too much... I've been a shitty friend to you..." he let out a bitter laugh. "Come to think of it... I've always been kind of a shitty friend to you... You deserved a lot better. You still do." He leaned in, brushing Kyle's bangs away from his face and kissing his forehead. "I don't want you to die..."

It was at this moment that Kyle's eyes fluttered open; lazily at first, but once he realized there was someone in the room with him, he opened them wider. "Stan?"

Startled, Stan almost fell out of his seat, "Ah! Um, I was just... fuck!"

Kyle pushed himself up with a concerned expression on his face, "You're here?"

He had a mind to run right out the door, but exactly what would that accomplish? It would make him seem even more of a douche than he already was. Plus, Kyle was dying, whether he liked it or not, and to run out on him now would be the absolute worst. So, he stood his ground, ready to leave the moment Kyle wanted him to. "I... wanted to visit you... but when I came before, you were busy and I'm a coward..."

"It doesn't matter... you still came." Kyle could tell Stan had been crying; his eyes were red, and his cheeks stained with tears. He frowned slightly, "Why are you here?"

Stan took a deep breath, sighing softly, "I know it means nothing now, but I came to tell you how sorry I am. I'm a shit friend and I've always been a shit friend. You deserve better and I don't want you to die... That sums it up pretty well... Also, I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared and I know you don't want to hear that from an asshole like me, but it's true... The thought of you dying before me scares the shit out of me."

Kyle almost looked relieved. "I'm glad you came... Despite the history... I'm glad."

"I'm done with it, Kyle," Stan said quietly. "I should have been done way sooner, but that's it for me. I won't touch another can of beer in my life... I swear to fucking god, it's what I'll do to honor you." A little too late, he knew it was true, he just hoped Kyle wouldn't say it.

"Fuck, Stan, stop being such a cheese ball," he gave a weak laugh, but he was crying now. At first, little sobs, but then he covered his eyes with his hands and started sobbing. This was when the truth came out. How scared he was, how he didn't want to die, even though death by kidney failure was a gentle one. He was going to miss everyone. It was too much to bear. It really meant a lot to him that Stan was telling him this, but to be honest, Kyle couldn't really believe he was going to totally stop drinking, even if it was to 'honor him.'

Stan wasn't sure what to do. Did Kyle want to be touched? He didn't even care; he'd missed it so much... He didn't even realize how much until they were in the same room. So, he leaned in, wrapping his arms around Kyle and holding him close. He was a lot thinner than Stan remembered. "I'm sorry," he repeated, over and over again. He doubted Kyle believed him because it was far too late, but it was worth a shot. Kyle was worth so much fucking shots on his own and Stan hated himself for not realizing it sooner. To think Kyle had to be dying for him to finally pay attention to the guy was sickening. Stan was disgusted in himself. "I'm going to make this right... I have to."

"For yourself... or for me?" came the quiet response and it hurt, but Stan understood why he asked.

"For you. You deserve that, Kyle. You deserve to be happy and have no regrets." That was absolutely true. He thought back to his promise: to stop drinking. God, it was going to be hard, but he had to do this. He _had_ to. There was no time left to save Kyle, but maybe... just maybe he could save their friendship and the first step to that was to admit his faults and stop them.

"I offer my support," Kyle whispered. "If you'll take it."

It was surprising to hear, but Kyle had always been that kind to him. Hell, even if it was Cartman, Kyle would probably help if he was willing to get better. "Of course I'll take it... I know it's not going to change overnight... but damn it, Kyle, I'm going to change for you."

When they pulled apart, Kyle gave him a small smile. Of course he was still skeptical, but really, what did he have to lose? He'd be gone in a week, wouldn't he? Maybe less than that... He would accept this and maybe, after he was gone, Stan would stick to that word.

Maybe he'd be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - LMAO hey i forgot life existed once i entered school again. I really want to finish this though, and I'm finally finished school for good after tomorrow so yayy~  
**

* * *

 **Part three.**

Another day passed and Stan left his home for the third time that week. Suffice to say, his mother was curious. He hadn't spoken to her, really, in quite the while, but he figured since his parents decided to go through a divorce yet again, that they deserved the silent treatment for a little.

"Stan, honey, I'm happy to see you out, but where are you going? You know... I got a call from Sheila..."

That was when Stan stopped in his tracks. He'd been about to open the door, but news stopped him. What was Sheila calling about? To finally inform them of Kyle's illness? He scoffed, shaking his head, which prompted Sharon to continue. "She says Kyle's sick... It's his kidneys, you know... they've never been quite right... I think you should visit him."

"Ahead of you like usual," Stan muttered, "I'm going out." With that, he slammed the door shut. He knew he'd regret that later, but he couldn't change all at once. He was focusing on the drinking first and he'd remembered all the times he'd woken with such a headache it was almost unbearable. Not going through that again would be nice, and not killing his liver would also be nice. If Kyle was dying, Stan was going to live for him.

As he walked down the street, he noticed a familiar figure standing at the end of the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. Kenny. He looked like he had something to say, which could be good or bad, but Stan decided to suck it up and keep walking toward him. When he'd reached the blond, he stopped, looking him right in the eye. Something he hadn't done for a while. Kenny almost looked taken aback, but his expression relaxed and Stan could swear he saw a smile. "I heard from Kyle you're trying to make things right. It's about fucking time, Marsh."

Stan looked down for a moment, playing with the ends of his bangs. "I know... I'm late. You can tell me; I deserve to hear it. I'm late and Kyle deserves better. He deserves the world and I'd love to give it to him... You have no idea how much. But I have to start small. Making things right... It's something I have to do for him. I don't want him to... d-die... with regrets."

"Good on you. You're finally becoming an adult," he crossed his arms. "They're letting him use a laptop finally. One of the hospital's. He'll be on Skype later, so you better talk to him there, too. No matter what, talk to him as much as you can."

"I will... I swear I will."

Kenny just nodded, walking past Stan and continuing down the street. Stan watched him go for a moment before continuing on his own way. It was such a hard thing to believe... That Kyle Broflovski, the sweetest, funniest, most hot-headed guy Stan knew, was dying. His best friend since he could remember... off to see the world of light. Fuck, he didn't know what was up there. He thought Kyle deserved to be up there, though. He deserved to be happy.

His visit was relatively long. He met up with Kyle, discussed his plans to make things better and then they chatted. About nothing. And about everything. What Stan missed out on from being a recluse, their dreams, the latest chapter of Attack on Titan, science, the stray cat Stan passed on the street that morning... Whatever came to their minds, they talked about it. Kyle seemed nervous the entire time and Stan couldn't really blame him. It was the first time they'd talked so much since they stopped being so close, and not to mention the fact that Kyle was kind of... dying.

"So you'll be online later, right?" Stan asked after a while of silence.

Kyle just nodded, "Should be... I'd like to talk more now, but I'm a bit..." he turned his hand back and forth, "tired..."

Stan smiled slightly, "I understand... I'll leave you to rest... but uh, I hope I can catch you online later..." his smile turned into a frown. He had to keep reminding himself that Kyle was literally not going to be around anymore and it was horrifying. His best friend in the whole world... He had to be brave, but really, it was hard. It was hard and every moment he remembered Kyle could drop dead any second, he had to force back his tears.

"Yeah, me too," Kyle replied. The chat seemed to have taken a lot out of him, so he deserved a good rest. Stan stood back up, brushing down his jeans and glancing over to Kyle. "I'll see you soon."

The other boy nodded, giving Stan a small smile. "Soon."

.0.0.0.

Craig Tucker waited outside the tall, brick building full of offices and shops. He hated that place but he didn't quite know why. Maybe it was that the guy inside seemed to help Tweek a lot more than he could. Was he jealous? Of a therapist? It was almost laughable.

He looked down, kicking a rock, when suddenly he got a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, he was faced with a familiar blonde, "Kenny."

"Craig-chan," he flashed a peace sign, then burst into laughter when Craig gave him _the stare._ "It's anime night with Tweek, right?! I'm just getting into the mood!"

"Hilarious," Craig mumbled. Truthfully, anime night with Tweek and Kenny was something he did look forward to. It was calming and enjoyable, but he'd never admit that. Though Kenny had to head home for a little, he would be joining them later in the night.

"He's doing well," Kenny said, calmer this time. He nodded his head toward the door, where Tweek came out, holding his signature coffee and almost tripping over his untied shoelaces.

"Yeah," Craig said softly, leaving it at that. It was his policy not to talk about Tweek when he wasn't there. It didn't feel right, even if it was good things. When the other blonde joined them, they started up a conversation about the anime they were currently watching: Daily Lives of High School Boys. Kenny claimed it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen, and chose it for his turn.

When they reached Craig's house, Kenny gave them both a little wave and continued on. Craig motioned for Tweek to follow him inside, which he quickly did. He was being pretty quiet today. Craig wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing... Oh well.

In his bedroom, Tweek hopped onto the bed and immediately wrapped himself in blankets. It made him feel strangely safe. Craig smiled slightly seeing him like that, then flipped open his laptop.

.0.0.0.

Later on, Stan was home, surfing the net until he saw the little skype signal appear telling him Kyle came online. Immediately, he was added into a group conversation between Kyle, Eric, Kenny, Craig, Tweek, Clyde and Token and of course, himself. It was a bit surprising since he still hadn't spoken to many of them at all, but he couldn't be nervous now.

 **Kyle B:** Hey, guys.

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:** watap thugs

 **Craig:** Hi.

 **Taco Life:** HEYY

 **Cartman:** stan finally stop being a pussy?

 **Kyle B:** Stop it. I didn't make this to fight.

 **Jewpocalypse:** of course not kyle. who's fighting?

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:** did u srsly just change ur name to jewpocalypse

 **Taco Life:** CarTMNA WERE HERE FOR LOVE NOT FIGHTS

 **Kyle is Gay:** no. are you high kenny? and shut up clyde.

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:**.. e_e;

 **Kyle B:** Cartman, seriously?

 **Stan the Man:** uhhhh...

 **It's true, I'm Kyle and also gay:** the pussy returns!

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:** shut the hell up cartman jesusdhf christ

* jesus lol my baf

* bad

 **Jewpocalypse:** are you typing with your dick again, kenny?

 **Taco Life:** LOL. is token AFK? and tweek?

 **Craig:** Tweek is at my place.

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:** looks like and oooh craiggg getting some hot action? ;)

 **Craig:** Fuck off.

 **Stan the Man:** ur...

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:** if u have something to say stan then by all means speak up

 **Stan the Man:** well,, its just... hi...

 **Jewpocalypse:** sup, fag?

 **Kyle B:** Hi, Stan.

 **Jewpocalypse:** can we fucking call already? this shit's getting annoying. uhhh errr ummm. i'm stan and i can't use words!

 **Taco Life:** HEHEH

 **Stan the Man:** :I

 **Ken** **(** **｡** **‿≖** **)** **:** ye same i second that claal

*call

 *** Group call ***

Kenny sighed dramatically, "I can only take so much of Cartman's typing."

"Hey, shut it, Kinny!"

"Not so loud, guys..."

The faint sound of Tweek's shrieking was heard on the other end, and Craig sighed into his microphone. "Why do we always have to call." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Uhh..." Stan wasn't sure what to say. There were so many people here... people none of them used to hang out with and now it seemed like they were all friends... Except him. Curious, he sent Kenny a private message asking what was going on.

"I thought we left the stammering behind with the chat," Kenny mumbled. "Speak up, Stan! We're itching to hear what you have to say." This was when he got the message and paused, taking a moment to type him a reply. The reply was just: _youve been gone a while man. things have changed_

"So itching!" Clyde echoed.

Stan could hear the sarcasm in his voice, and again, didn't blame him. It was kind of annoying since he was trying his best, but he couldn't say it was wrongly placed. "Sorry," he managed. "I'm just... getting used to it all again." He read the reply, sighing slightly. That was all he was probably going to get out of him, too.

"Well, get used to it faster, fag."

"Cartman, shut the hell up," Kyle muttered.

"God, all y'all are hilarious," Clyde said.

Craig just sighed again.

"Hang on, something just appeared on my screen."

"Are you watching porn again, Kenny? Popups like mad on those websites," Eric snickered.

"Okay, first of all: shut up, and second of all: no. I'm on tumblr."

"May as well be a porn website," Eric added.

"Once I hacked into Cartman's tumblr and followed a bunch of gay porn blogs. Shit was hysterical," Clyde said.

"Shut up, Clyde! You probably enjoyed looking for them, didn't you?" Eric hissed.

Clyde just whined, "I did not!"

"What is it?" Kyle inquired. "The popup..."

"I dunno, some stupid thing about wishes or something," Kenny mumbled. "I'm just gonna... wait, what the fuck? It won't let me close out... What the fuck." Persistent clicking sounds could be heard on his end, "Piss off," he groaned.

"Did your computer freeze or something?" Stan asked quietly, trying to be helpful.

"No, everything's fine. It's just this dumb ad. It won't let me close it unless I fill out the fucking survey question," Kenny groaned again.

"Then why don't you j-," Eric began, but paused. "Oh, fuck me, I got it too."

"Why don't you guys just answer it?" Stan asked, but then, all of a sudden, it appeared on his computer too. It was a small box with large lettering at the top "LAST WISH" and the only thing that was there was a question, and a little box to answer in. Stan glanced at the question carefully. "If you knew you were going to die, what would your last wish be?" he read it aloud, slowly.

"You got it too?" Kyle and Clyde asked in unison.

Stan just nodded, but then remembering they couldn't see him, coughed slightly and said, "Yeah. I'm just gonna fill it out. Can't do much harm, right?"

"Harm... What if it's a virus? This seems like the kind of thing malware gets attached to. What if it infects your computer and fries your files? You don't know wh-"

"Kahl, shut up."

"You shut up!"

Another yelp from Tweek on the other end signalling Craig received it too. "Go on your computer," Craig said, speaking only to Tweek at the moment. "I wanna send you a file."

"O-ok!" Tweek said.

"Guys," Stan said, "I doubt it's a virus... probably just some company..." he clicked the answer box, thinking about what his last wish would be... He didn't have to think for long, though. His last wish... How weird to think about how easy it was to choose. He sloppily typed it into the box and clicked enter. The ad disappeared and he said, "See? It's fine."

"Well..." was the last thing he heard before he blacked out and the last thing he remembered when he woke up. It all seemed to happen so fast. No longer than a minute after he'd pressed enter, he suddenly felt very light headed, like he'd stood up too fast or something. Then, the next thing he knew, he was falling. He didn't quite remember what happened after that, but he assumed he'd passed out because he woke up not too long later.

The scary thing, though, was that he had no idea where it was, that he woke up.


	4. Chapter 4

y'all i got a really bad memory save me;;; feel FREE to comment if u want updates! i am a lazy sloth

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 **Part Four**

There was a very strange scent from where Stan was, but he couldn't place it. It was almost like a mix between blood... and raw sewage? Whatever it was, it was terribly foul and as he fumbled around in the dark, he hoped he wasn't stepping in it.

There was only dim light and it wasn't enough to allow him to recognize much of the room. Where was this, he thought worriedly. Last thing he remembered was being on call on Skype and then, all of the sudden, he was here. A small box of a room where he couldn't for the life of him, find a door or an exit or anything of the like. It didn't seem to be a particularly large room either.

"Fuck!" he yelled as more panic began settling in. "Where the fuck am I!?"

That was when a voice answered him from nowhere, and everywhere. "Stan Marsh." It was a vaguely familiar voice, but again, he couldn't place it. "The game has begun."

"What? What game!?" he yelled again, only to get no response, but instead, his attention turned left, where a bright light could be seen through the cracks of... a door? Whatever it was he ran toward it as fast as he could, nearly tripping over himself once or twice along the way. He was petrified, but he had to keep going. Wherever he was, it was clear someone had brought him here for a purpose. What was it... a game? That was what he said, wasn't it?

When he reached the door, he put a hand on it, pushing until it cracked open and then, there was light. Of course, like in the room, it wasn't very bright. Torches were lined up along the walls, giving off a dim yellow light down each corridor. From where he was standing, there were three ways to go. One left, one right, and one down. Before he could choose any way, though, a small slip of paper appeared in front of him. Without thinking, he just grabbed it, reading it as quickly as he could. "A life... for a life?" he whispered in a cracked voice. What did that even mean? Someone was going to die? He shoved the note into his pocket and looked around. The decision had to be made.

"When in doubt... go down?" he didn't quite believe himself, but he began walking down despite that. Maybe he would come across something familiar... or someone.

.0.0.0.

"Where the fuck'd Stan go?" Eric muttered to the rest of the call.

"Oh, shit guys, I gotta go! Dad made tacos," Clyde said hurriedly into the microphone. All they heard after that was him get up and run out of the room.

"Hell if I know," Kenny replied, "he answered the survey. Maybe it was a virus. Bye Clyde!"

"Did you guys answer it yet?" Kyle asked.

"Hell naw," Eric's constant clicking told that truth.

By this time, everyone had the little survey pop onto their screen, even Tweek, who had just opened his laptop moments ago. The only one to allegedly fill in the box, however, was the missing Stan. "W-what do we -ngh- do!? What if it fries my computer!? What if it's the government! They'll see all-"

"Tweek, shut the fuck up," Craig sighed. "All you do on that thing is read and browse tumblr. What the hell do you think they're going to find?"

"More importantly, I don't want to get a virus," Kyle said, matter-of-factly.

"Maybe his mom just called him down for dinner or some shit," Eric said. "I'm starting to get pissed off. I'm gonna answer the damn thing and be done with it. Let's all just do the same. I mean honestly, what's the worst that could happen? Don't be pussies."

"Let's all do it at the same time, then," Kenny chimed in. "And if something bad happens, like a virus, I know a guy."

"Of course you do," Eric snorted.

Kenny didn't bother dignifying that with a response. So, hesitantly, the remaining boys filled out the survey question with their secret last wishes. Things they'd never told anyone, or things they desperately wanted to get their hands on. Whatever it was, they filled it in and clicked enter. At first, like Stan, nothing happened, so sighs of relief were heard in unison, until the inevitable happened. It was like the outside world ceased to exist or time stopped and it was so much pressure that it knocked each and every one of them out.

Some would say it hurt, some would say they heard a high pitched whistle sound, the rest would say they just fainted without a word. However it happened, it happened.

It started for everyone the same it started for Stan. A small block of a room, dark as night. A vaguely familiar voice... the crack of the door... then a note. Everyone's said something different depending on what, exactly it was that they wished for. This is how it started, though. A game gone way too far.

"What the hell am I supposed to do in this crack house," Eric mumbled to himself, walking down the corridor with his hands in his pockets. There was only down to go, so he wasn't given much choice in his circumstance. He just kept walking until he noticed a door to his left. "Oh?" a quick glance in all directions before he decided to open it. He didn't want any surprises, so he was cautious.

"...What the fuck?"

"Cartman!?"

"Stan?!"

The two boys looked at each other for a brief moment, tense and obvious worry in their eyes. Stan had been in that room for god knows how long, and since he could remember, all doors disappeared the moment he stepped inside. "Quick, keep the door open!" he yelled, pointing, but it was too late. The door was gone once more. "Fuck!"

"What the fucking shitting hell is going on right now, Stan? I'm seriously!"

"How would I know!? I just... filled out that stupid survey and then the next thing I knew, I was trapped in here..." he ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do! The door disappeared so we're..." he trailed off again, thinking about the paper in his pocket. In that moment, he felt like he understood. What it was they were meant to do. He said it was a game, right? So... these papers... are tasks? In order to progress, like any game... you have to do given tasks. His eyes widened. Did that mean he had to kill someone!?

"Hello?" Eric started calling at the spot the door once was. "Someone get your ass over here!"

Even if he did have to kill someone, he had no weapon! And he wasn't strong enough to do it with bare hands... There was no way... But then of course, as if the game maker was reading his mind, he felt something appear in his sweater pocket. He was almost too scared to look, but he did anyway, gently reaching a hand in and feeling... a gun?

Stan's eyes grew wide. No... no... no way... This couldn't be happening... Did they expect him to shoot Eric?! They couldn't! They were friends!

 _A life for a life._ The task echoed in his head. His wish... It was for Kyle to live, but apparently, he couldn't do that without taking the life of someone else. But did that mean that his wish would be granted? Would Kyle be given an extra life? Well, it was Eric's kidney that saved him before, maybe it was destiny Eric would be the one to die. If it was fate, then it was okay, right?

To be completely honest, the moment he took his first steps in this strange place, a part of Stan cracked. Maybe it was his hope, maybe it was his sanity, but he was finding it increasingly easier to imagine killing Eric if it meant saving Kyle. That didn't mean he wanted to, but he had to, right?

He clutched the gun, still holding it inside his pocket. He was getting nervous and starting to sweat. Actually killing a real person... That was nothing like how it was in a video game.

"Helloooooo!" Eric shoved his face against the wall. "Christ almighty, are you shits deaf!?"

Stan felt this voice inside him, telling him quietly to _just do it. It'd be simple and fast. He wouldn't know what hit him. He was never nice to you anyway, so what's the problem?_ Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead and the hand holding the gun began shaking hard as he pulled it out of his pocket. _Yes, that's right. He's not looking. Go ahead._ He lifted his hand, pointing the gun at Eric's head. He'd fired a gun many times before with his uncle Jimbo, but at a human... never. His breathing hitched as he tried to make out an apology. Maybe this was all a dream. "I can't do it," he whispered.

"Can't do what, fag?" Eric mumbled, feeling around the wall for some sort of switch. Then, he turned around, noticing Stan pointing a gun at him and immediately looking like he'd just seen a ghost. "Whoa, what the fuck are you doing!?"

Stan couldn't even make out a word before Eric was running at him. He knew he wouldn't hesitate to grab the gun right out of his hands and shoot him for even thinking about it. It was that horrible thought that pressed him into pulling the trigger. Though, naturally he was so petrified, he missed.

Eric flew at him, grabbing the wrist that was holding the gun, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"I-" he still couldn't get the chance to speak, because Eric started throwing punches. Stan dodged the first few, but after that he was getting repeatedly hit until the gun flew out of his hand. Punch after punch anywhere Eric could hit. In the chest, the face, the stomach. All until he got tired and started breathing heavier himself.

Everywhere in Stan's body ached and he was sure his nose and lips were bleeding, but somehow he just knew that he had to do it now. It was the only chance out of here and it was the last one he was going to get. With his last remaining strength, he kicked Eric off of him, quickly reaching for the gun. Before the bigger guy could react, two shots were fired. The first in the leg and the second in the head when he'd realized he missed.

Eric fell to the ground within a few seconds and that's when the reality of what he'd done kicked in. He let out this horrified shriek, holding his head with his hands. "No! I didn't... I... Oh god!" Eric was right, he was a pussy, but not in the way he imagined.

It took him a long while to pull himself together, even after he noticed the door crack open again. He knew it would stay, so there was no point running out. All he could do was sit next to the body that once belonged to Eric Cartman. He'd closed his eyes and whispered an apology over and over again, even though the boy could no longer hear him.

"I'm so sorry, Cartman... I'm so fucking sorry..." he covered his eyes again. He shouldn't have promised Kyle those things. He shouldn't have vowed to live for him, because if he hadn't, Eric would still be alive and this wouldn't have happened.

He stood up, shaking and staggering back and forth for a moment. Taking one last look at Eric's limp body, he slowly walked out of the room. He felt clammy and sick to his stomach, but he knew he had to keep going. If Eric was down here, there was a chance the others were as well... He had to move forward.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey! This is the last old chapter I have, so updates from now on will contain longer chapters as requested c:**

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Part Five

As soon as the filthy deed of murder had been done, words appeared high up in front of every individual person, wherever they may be, that said: 1/6. Of course, only Stan knew what that truly meant. He willed himself not to think about it, though. It made him too sick to his stomach. If the others knew... Well, he didn't know what they would do but it probably wouldn't be good. Wait... one out of six?

"Does that mean...we're all going to die," Stan's eyes went wide.

.0.0.0.

Craig woke up to the sound of screaming, and not just anyone's screaming... Tweek's. It was enough to make him bolt up and look around to see the blond over in the corner of the room, covering his head with his arms and screaming like he'd seen a ghost.

"Hey!" Craig got up and ran over to him, bending down. "What's the matter?" It didn't even occur to him at first that they were not in his room because it was quite dark. As for Tweek's reply, all that came out was muffled by sobs so Craig couldn't make heads or tails of it. He caught a few words, however, some of which were 'voice,' 'game,' and 'countdown.' Deciding he was far too tired for this, he just sat down and threw an arm around the other boy until he'd finally calmed down enough to explain their situation...

Which was to say... he didn't understand what was happening for a while. When Tweek finally did calm down, nearly an hour had passed, but Craig didn't mind. He was patient, if not a little bored. He did wonder where they were, though. This wasn't his bedroom from what he could see, but there was a door. Maybe he could convince Tweek to get up and follow him.

"Hey," he nudged his friend. "Let's keep going."

"W-what!? Are you crazy!? When you're -ngh- l-lost, you stay put!"

"But we don't know if we're even lost."

"Not the point!"

Craig sighed and looked around again. He felt like this was going to be a terribly long day.

Another shorter while passed and Craig got up, brushing his pants down and walking toward the door. "We have to go. Nobody's coming. We're alone." This only seemed to frustrate Tweek even more and he grabbed at his hair, nearly tugging it out of his head. "Tweek... stop."

"But I -nn- c-can't!"

"Did you take your meds today?"

"No!"

"Tweek..."

"I forgot, okay?!"

"Take them now."

Tweek gave him a long, hard stare as if to say he didn't want to, but Craig only frowned and said, "Please." To which Tweek finally gave in and sighed, nodding his head. He pulled a little bottle out of his sweater pocket and fidgeted with it for a while before managing to get it open. Pouring two pills into his hand, he glanced into the now empty bottle, "Sh-shit..."

"You ran out?"

"Maybe..."

Craig sighed again, "You better go get more when we get out of here. You know they help you." He bent down in front of Tweek to get a good look at his eyes. Tweek tried to avoid eye contact entirely, but Craig was having none of that. He cupped his cheeks and forced him to look back. "Why didn't you tell me you haven't been sleeping..."

"What! I have-"

"Clearly you haven't. You look like a raccoon."

Tweek just mumbled something to himself as a reply. Truthfully, Craig knew the guy had a lot of problems, but he still loved him. Yep, love, definitely love. Not brotherly love either, it was far more than that and Craig had told him that before, but he never got a real answer out of the jittery blond. He could wait, though, however long it took. He could wait.

"We're going," he took his hands, lifting him up into a standing position and pulling him toward the door. Tweek didn't seem to be particularly fond of this idea because he started complaining, but Craig held on firmly. "It's going to be fine, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Y-you can't promise that! Besides who says that's what I'm worried a-about!"

"Relax. I can..." he felt the slip of paper in his pocket, which had appeared earlier that hour. "Even if it costs my sanity..."

.0.0.0.

"Oh god..." Alone, Kyle walked down the dimly lit hallways, still dragging along his IV. He felt horribly weak and tired and desperately wished he was back in the hospital... something he thought he'd never say. "Where is everyone... Stan?" he called. "Kenny, Cartman? Craig, Tweek?"

Something skittered behind him and when he heard it, he gasped, turning so quickly that he tumbled over, swinging the IV down with him. "Ouch, ouch!..." his eyes widened as he saw something lurking in the shadows in front of him. "Guys...? This isn't funny if it's you! I don't want to play this game!"

He pulled himself back up using the IV as support and quickly turned on his heels-well, as fast as he could in his state. Still, he could hear whatever or whoever it was following him. That only prompted him to go faster. Was this a dream? Some sort of sick joke? A hallucination? It couldn't be real... There was no way! "Someone! Answer me, please!"

He turned a corner and almost slammed into a wall, but there was a door, which meant getting away from whatever was following him. He quickly swung it open and went inside, slamming it shut behind him and pressing his back to it. With heavy breathing, he looked around his new surroundings. Still, nothing looked familiar to him. In fact, it looked even worse in here. It was a bit lighter, which allowed him to see more, but honestly, he almost wished he couldn't. The area was built like a maze, with already more than five ways to go and each way look more complicated than the last.

"This is so shitty," he mumbled, trying to pick a way to go. What did they say for mazes? If you stick to a specific side, you'll make it to the end...? Only, which side was it... "Right it is," he said, making a guess and just heading into the third way. "I hope this is okay..."

He walked aimlessly for a long while until he came upon another door. "Am I at the end..." he pushed the door open again and came face to face with a terrified Tweek and a less than pleased Craig.

"Kyle...?"

"K-Kyle?!"

"Tweek! Craig!" Kyle's eyes went wide with relief. "Oh god, I thought I was alone here... It's good to see you two... Do you have any idea where this is? What's going on? How we got here?"

"Calm down, we don't know," Craig muttered. "We're just as lost." The more relief Kyle felt, the more anxious Craig did. He knew what his paper said and he knew what it meant... Somehow, this 'game' was all about the things they typed on their last wish surveys. There was no coincidence in these alleged 'tasks.' Speaking of, he wondered if Kyle or Tweek had gotten slips of paper... or any of the others for that matter, since it was becoming clear they weren't alone at all. If they all filled out the surveys with their wishes, chances are, they were all in here. Where, was the question.


End file.
